Dawn of the Planet of the Apes: The Official Movie Novelization

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Their home, which lay behind a wall of timbers and a heavy gate, spiraled around the flanks of the mountain. It was a place made for them.

Apes looked over the walls and hung from the timbers higher up the mountain, hooting out excited welcomes as they watched the troop approach. The noise increased as news of the hunting party’s return spread.

Caesar and the other older apes had spent their lives in human cities, human buildings, human laboratories. This place was unlike any of them. There was a central open area anchored by a large fire pit. Around it scattered clusters of huts and lean-tos followed the natural shape of the mountain’s slopes, continuing along the edge of a steep canyon bridged by fallen trees. The sound of the river rushing through the bottom of the canyon rose and fell with the seasons. The torrent was high now, too high to cross even on horseback, the rocks on either side slick with spray and moss.

The village was united by a network of paths along the ground and timbers in the air, running from higher slopes to the branches of larger trees that grew within the walls. Those trees, which served as lookout posts and homes, were connected to each other by woven grass ropes and swinging bridges.

As he always did when he surveyed the village, Caesar felt a quiet pride at what the apes had done together. Chimp and orangutan, gorilla and bonobo and gibbon, all turned to see what their leader had brought them. The younger apes ran and scampered in excited circles, dodging too close to the horses until Koba signed and shouted for them to get back. Then they chased each other, the thrill of the occasion too much for them to handle.

The troop arrived in the center of the village, near the fire pit. Gorillas knuckle-loped over, seeing the elk and the bear. Two of them could carry an elk or a full-grown brown bear. Once, on the other side of this mountain, Caesar had killed a smaller black bear. The gorilla with him had draped the dead creature over its shoulders and walked back to the camp as easily as if it had been carrying a baby. Caesar was stronger than most chimps—and any human—but a gorilla could tear him limb from limb. They were fearsome when their tempers were hot, though that seldom happened.

Maurice hooted and grumbled at the scrambling children. They looked over at him, standing next to a stone wall, and the old orangutan gestured for them to come back and pay attention. The young ones did so, then settled down and picked up flat stones and pieces of charred wood. Maurice pointed at the wall, picking out each letter of the words carved there.

To help the children, and those of the older apes who had never learned to read, pictograms accompanied the words. In the first, two apes faced each other, teeth bared. A harsh diagonal line slashed through both of them. The translation was written next to the picture.

Caesar had not wanted to use so human a symbol, but it was better than any he could think of. An open book with the alphabet showing on its pages appeared to one side of the second line, and on the other side there was a clenched ape fist.

The same symbol was repeated at the end of the third line, but below the open book lay a careful carving of the four kinds of great apes, arms linked together.

Every young ape learned how to write. It was another human thing Caesar had not wanted to copy, but writing was a powerful tool no matter who it came from. Apes were stronger for it. Maurice, a natural teacher, kept the children focused on each letter in turn. The older ones, impatient, were given whole words to copy.

Caesar thought back to the first time he had seen Maurice sign. At that moment he realized he wasn’t the only one in the shelter who could do it, and knowing it had given him hope. More than any other ape who had fought with him in those days, Maurice was his trusted friend.

Two gorillas pulled the bear off the sled. Near them, Blue Eyes got down from his horse, slowly, watching the gorillas carry the bear away to be butchered. Ash skipped through the crowd and grinned at Blue Eyes’ wounds.

He never would’ve gotten me, Ash signed. But I’m quicker than you.

Blue Eyes shoved him away, but he too was smiling. Ash shoved back, playfully—then both of them stopped when Rocket came around from the other side of the sled and signed at them.

What are you standing around for? Go help with the horses.

Ash ducked his head and hurried away. Caesar watched his son, trying to judge how badly he was hurt from how he acted when he didn’t know his father was watching. It looked as if he would be all right, but someone would have to see to his wounds to clean them, at least.

Past Blue Eyes, Caesar saw a female chimp named Sparrow come from deeper in the village, rushing toward the hunting party. She was plainly alarmed, pushing other apes aside in her hurry. Caesar’s own alarm grew. She was headed for him. He flipped the reins of his horse to a waiting gorilla and was moving toward her before she reached him.

Follow me, she gestured.

Cornelia, Caesar thought.